The Lost Dogs Part 10

32.

BOUNCER HAD FINALLY RETURNED to earth and it was not a soft landing. For the first few days in Marthina McClay's house, the big lug didn't know where he was or what to do with himself. He had no interest in food. In the crate he whined and peed. Let out of the crate he would pace, from one end of the house to the other, back and forth, endlessly. As McClay watched him circle the layout she thought she was seeing him literally unwind his stress. to earth and it was not a soft landing. For the first few days in Marthina McClay's house, the big lug didn't know where he was or what to do with himself. He had no interest in food. In the crate he whined and peed. Let out of the crate he would pace, from one end of the house to the other, back and forth, endlessly. As McClay watched him circle the layout she thought she was seeing him literally unwind his stress.

In the evenings she would put him in his crate, dim the lights, play soft music, and sit with him. It took five days before he would sit next to her outside the crate, and even then it was brief. She began stroking him gently and offering up little ma.s.sages, which he seemed to like and hang around for. When given toys, he chewed at them for a minute but didn't really know how to hold them in his paws and gnaw at them.

Bouncer was less than thrilled to meet McClay's other dogs. He wasn't fearful or aggressive but something closer to suspicious. Though not obvious, he had scars, mostly on his front legs, and he seemed wary of the presence of other pit bulls. McClay did have a purpose for the other dogs. She had started training Bouncer almost immediately and the other dogs were part of her approach.

Born in Wichita, Kansas, McClay moved to Palo Alto, California, as an infant. From her youngest days her family had German shepherds, and she says her earliest memory is of her hand rubbing against fur. Later the family owned Dobermans, and Marthina befriended a breeder who taught her how to train dogs. His method was based on negative reinforcement. To correct unwanted behavior he relied heavily on a choke chain, a studded collar that digs into a dog's neck when pulled tight. McClay didn't love the approach but it did seem to work, and she didn't know anything better.

When she was a teen she spent three straight summers back in Wichita, where she started to train and ride horses in pole-bending and barrel-jumping compet.i.tions. The experience made her even more comfortable around large animals and taught her a lot about their behavior. Based on her work with horses, she thought there had to be a better way to train dogs. A few years later, when she got her own dog, an Australian shepherd mix named Poco, she trained him using only positive reinforcement.

She didn't realize it at the time, but McClay had stumbled into a schism that would divide dog trainers. Not many people use choke chains anymore, but there is one school of thought that operates on the principle that dogs are pack animals and in order to train them you have to a.s.sume the role of the alpha dog. This requires that the trainer display dominant behavior while forcing the dog into a submissive role. The techniques, at the extreme end, include things like going through doors first, eating first, convincing or even forcing a dog to roll on its back and expose its belly.

The other camp contends that such extreme measures are not necessary and preaches positive reinforcement with treats and praise. They often use a clicker approach, in which the trainer holds a small device that makes a clicking sound. Every time the dog does what's being asked, it gets a click. The dog begins to a.s.sociate the sound with doing the right thing and the system can be used to teach it all sorts of behaviors.

McClay fell somewhere in the middle. In her own training with Bouncer, and all her dogs, she used positive reinforcement, but she also understood the power of the pack. That's where her other dogs would come into play in Bouncer's training. They would teach Bouncer how to be a dog. Once he was accepted into the group, he would be able to see what they did and did not do, how they acted around one another. If he got out of line one of the other dogs would correct him.

It didn't take long for this to start working. About ten days after arriving Bouncer had begun to chill out and settle in. He was making great progress in his training and getting more comfortable with McClay's other pets. He still preferred not to approach other dogs head-on-he defaulted to a side-to greeting with a sideways peer, which sent an "I come in peace" message-but he was happy to interact once a friendly rapport was established. Maybe two weeks into his stay McClay had all the dogs out in the yard. Dexter, a young male pit bull, approached Bouncer and dropped into a play bow, a familiar pose in which a dog lays his front legs on the ground, thrusts his b.u.t.t into the air, and gives a short happy bark. It says, "Wanna play?"

Bouncer instinctively understood the offer and seemed happy to respond, but what happened next horrified McClay. Bouncer leaped into the air, flung his legs in all directions, and landed with an awkward shuddering thump, front legs thrust slightly forward and back end wiggling. It was the lamest play bow McClay had ever seen. Even Dexter stood up and looked at Bouncer as if to say, "Dude, work on that." Regardless, it got the job done and that day Bouncer became part of the group.

McClay also had an epiphany about the sort of dog she was dealing with. Bouncer was a great dog, but he was "an idiot." Or to be more generous, he was a sixty-five-pound puppy. When she was sitting in the big rocker, he would jump up on her and knock the entire chair over. He didn't know how to climb onto a couch. Even though he was bigger and possibly older than some of the other dogs, he pestered them like an annoying little brother.

For the most part they ignored him, but when he took it too far, they would turn on him with a sharp bark, a snap, and a low growl and he would know he'd crossed the line. Same thing when he played inappropriately or committed some other transgression. The dogs were teaching him what was cool and what was not.

Had he been a more aggressive sort with alpha instincts of his own, these instances might have led to a confrontation, but it was pretty clear to McClay early on that he was a willing follower, a big goof who just wanted to have fun and get along. In fact she began to toy with a new name for him.

With his size and muscularity he looked like a real tough guy, but he was in reality a lumbering galoot who was as sweet as a Halloween basket and wouldn't harm anything. He reminded her of someone: the Cowardly Lion from The Wizard of Oz. The Wizard of Oz. He was even the same color as a lion. On December 26, McClay made her decision. In honor of the big cat that lacked courage, Bouncer would henceforth be known as Leo. He was even the same color as a lion. On December 26, McClay made her decision. In honor of the big cat that lacked courage, Bouncer would henceforth be known as Leo.

Every day Marthina McClay woke up around 7:30. She let the dogs out in the yard while she made a cup of coffee and grabbed the newspaper. Then the pooches followed her back to her bedroom and up onto her bed, where they had a big snugglefest. Leo was always the last one in.

Every day he got three legs and most of his body on the bed but left that last leg hanging off the side, paddling at the air as if he couldn't quite make it up. McClay knew this was an act. She had the video evidence to prove that the dog formerly known as Bouncer could jump clear over the bed if he wanted, but he did not want to. It was almost as if he needed the shot of love and acceptance, a daily rea.s.surance that McClay and the other dogs would grab him by the collar and yank him back from the abyss.

In 2002, McClay had watched a TV report about dogs saved from a fight ring. In the segment an animal control officer picked up one of the dogs-a skinny, scarred, and uncertain pit bull-and the dog rested its head on the officer's shoulder. McClay was moved. How could a dog like that go from the depths of abuse to cuddling a stranger? It said something about dogs in general and pit bulls in particular; they had a sort of boundless optimism.

She had been volunteering in shelters and came across her share of pit bulls. She admired the way they didn't seem to dwell on whatever suffering they'd seen or endured. Instead, they simply wanted to get on with it, to get back to something better. She began seeking them out when she went to shelters, and she noticed a trend. When pit bulls were evaluated for adoptability, the attendants usually went in expecting a problem. When someone's looking for a problem, he usually finds one.

McClay felt as though the whole approach to pit bulls needed to change. She set out to overhaul the dog's image by showing how great the breed could be. In 2004, she adopted Haley, a beautiful brindle female of unknown origin she found in a shelter. Besides regular obedience training, she began training Haley to be a therapy dog, one that visits hospitals and nursing homes to provide companions.h.i.+p and uplift for the infirm.

The process of training a therapy dog is a daunting one that requires not only perfect obedience but a series of hospital-specific tests. Will the dog react if an IV tower is rolled past its head? Will it jump up on a wheelchair or a patient's lap? Do loudspeaker announcements bother it? Will it be attentive and focused on the people it visits? After all these skills are tested, the dog must go through three observation sessions in a medical facility. If it pa.s.ses all tests perfectly-nine out of ten isn't good enough-it's certified as a therapy dog.

Haley had her certification in five months. On that day months ago, when McClay saw the Vick dogs being led off the property on TV, she had also said, "It would be cool to take one of those dogs, turn it into a therapy dog, and show the world what this breed is all about." Leo gave her the chance to do just that, and it was beginning to appear as if he would prove her right much sooner than she ever imagined.

Once he relaxed, Leo responded to training like few dogs she'd met. One of the things she loved about pit bulls was their willingness to work hard, and Leo set a new standard. Matched with his strong connection to people, which made him eager to please, he advanced at a rate that astonished even McClay. By the latter part of January, not even six weeks after he'd arrived from the shelter, Leo was a certified therapy dog.

His backstory as a Bad Newz survivor made him a hit everywhere. No matter where he went-hospital, nursing home, urban school-Leo met few people who had been through more than he had.

During one of his first training sessions with live patients, Leo visited an Alzheimer's sufferer. The woman sat staring through a window, but when Leo came in she looked at him and smiled. The nurse told McClay that the woman never made eye contact with anyone.

When Leo visited a man with cardiopulmonary disease, the guy became so animated talking about his Airedale terriers that he removed his oxygen mask so he could be better heard. McClay had seen similar things with other therapy dogs but there was something different about Leo. He had a quality that made people respond. Was it sweetness? Intensity? Compa.s.sion? No, it was something else. McClay thought about it as she watched him in action. Finally, she nailed it: dorkiness. He had that big lumbering body and goofy face, and he walked up to people as if to say "Hi, I'm Leo," and they simply responded to him. He was just so approachable, so open.

That att.i.tude worked equally well when McClay began taking Leo into schools and juvenile detention facilities so kids could see that pit bulls, even those from Michael Vick's vicious pack, were not salivating monsters but kind and friendly animals that deserved better treatment. She also began working with shelters on their evaluation procedures.

Of course Leo didn't know or care about any of that. Once his work was done all he wanted to do was go home and play. He would often run, awkward and lumbering, into the living room, jump on the couch, then roll off and flail on the ground as if he'd been traumatized. The other dogs would jump on top of him, and the four of them would end up rolling around in a pile of legs and tails. It was his favorite game.

33.

IT WAS ONE OF the first warm days of spring, when it seems as if all at once flowers have started to bloom, birds have returned to the trees, and the sun generates a replica of the heat that portends summer. After her husband and children were out of the house-off to work and school and preschool-Catalina Stirling walked down creaky steps to the bas.e.m.e.nt. the first warm days of spring, when it seems as if all at once flowers have started to bloom, birds have returned to the trees, and the sun generates a replica of the heat that portends summer. After her husband and children were out of the house-off to work and school and preschool-Catalina Stirling walked down creaky steps to the bas.e.m.e.nt.

She opened the door to the dog room, and, as always, found Jasmine sitting in her crate, staring out, motionless. The bowl she had put down earlier was now empty and although the dog showed no signs of wanting to go out, Stirling knew she was ready.

Catalina approached the crate, talking softly as she always did. She reached inside and hooked Jasmine under the front shoulders, sliding her out and lifting all thirty-five pounds of her off the ground. She cradled the dog next to her body and stood for just a moment, holding her, bouncing her a little, whispering soft wishes into Jasmine's ear. Catalina had always loved that name. She'd often thought that if she had another child and it was a girl, she'd name it Jasmine. It was another one of those coincidences, those instinctive markers that pulled her toward the dog.

Jasmine, as always, went stiff in Catalina's arms, eyes closed. Catalina appreciated that, as well. She too liked to close her eyes and shut out the world when she had problems. She was sure Jasmine had developed this technique to survive, but Catalina could only guess at the hards.h.i.+ps she had endured. She could only guess at where Jasmine went during those times. What dreams did she dream? What happy memories did she relive? Did she have any?

Out in the yard, Catalina placed Jasmine on the ground, then moved away. Jasmine got up and took care of her business while Catalina brought out the other dogs. The three of them ran and explored in the yard. The visible change in Jasmine during these sessions with the other dogs amazed Catalina. What Jasmine usually did was closer to crawling than walking. Her legs were never really straight and her belly was maybe six inches off the ground. Her tail was tucked between her legs, her head ducked. And she twitched and flinched at everything, like a sh.e.l.l-shocked soldier walking through a library of falling books.

But when she played in the yard with the other dogs, she looked like a different creature, like a normal dog. She stood high, she ran and jumped, and the tension left her body. Catalina would watch her from the deck or the back window at such times, and it gave her pleasure to see Jasmine enjoying herself. It inspired her as well; she knew there was a happy dog inside Jasmine. Catalina simply had to find a way to get her out.

She decided it was time to try something new. Catalina grabbed the leashes and went into the yard. She leashed up Rogue and Sophie and held them in one hand, then grabbed Jasmine's leash, which was dragging on the ground behind her, in the other hand, as she did each night when they took their little walks around the yard. This time though, they didn't stick to the usual routine.

Catalina swung open the gate in the fence. A wide world yawned before them, with houses and cars and a previously unseen collection of trees and sidewalks and mailboxes. Jasmine took it in. She looked uncertain, but the other dogs pulled forward and Catalina went with them. Jasmine let the slack in her leash play out, but before it became tight she started forward, through the gate and out of the yard.

Catalina didn't know what would happen or how long this sojourn would last but she felt her heart speed up. She could hardly believe that Jasmine had come this far. They reached the top of the yard and turned up the sidewalk. That's when the trip screeched to a halt.

The walk didn't end, but Jasmine suddenly had to sniff everything. Every leaf, every bush, every trunk and flower, every, it seemed, blade of gra.s.s. Covering ten feet took minutes. A whole new world was opening up to Jasmine and she was diving in with both nostrils. This blew Catalina away. She never imagined the day would turn out like this. Jasmine was showing such courage and doing so well, Catalina's heart swelled with pride and love.

Even more than the excursion, Catalina was encouraged by Jasmine's body language. As she had been in the yard, Jasmine was relaxed and steady. She held herself like a regular confident dog and explored whatever caught her curiosity. It was as if she had become so distracted by the new and interesting things around her that she forgot who she was. She forgot where she came from. She forgot to be scared and insecure.

At the same time, Catalina couldn't help but remember where Jasmine had come from.

About a week later the doorbell rang and Catalina opened her house to Nancy Williams, a certified animal behaviorist. Life had not changed that much in the wake of Jasmine's breakthrough, but Catalina was determined to push on and she hoped Williams could jump-start the process. The off-property walks had become a regular event, and Jasmine seemed to look forward to them. Each time, she underwent the metamorphosis from twitching fearball to regular dog, sniffing and exploring with delight.

In other ways Jasmine was unchanged. When the group returned home after that first walk, Jasmine had gone directly to the bas.e.m.e.nt and right back into her crate. She still refused to eat with anyone else in the room. Still refused to walk from the bas.e.m.e.nt to the backyard on her own and still struggled with thresholds, going from one room to another or inside to out. She still refused to let anyone pet her.

This was life with Jasmine. For every moment of soaring joy and encouragement there were two instances of heartbreak and sadness. Catalina had started with the belief that given a stable, loving environment any dog could be rehabilitated, but now she realized that Jasmine would never be a "normal" dog. She would never be "adoptable." It was, as she reconsidered it, an unrealistic goal. It didn't matter, though, because Catalina also knew more than ever that Jasmine did have some joy in her life and she had the potential for more. That possibility made it all worthwhile and drove her on.

After talking it over with Davor-a software engineer who would have been happy with one dog but understood his wife's need to connect with animals-Catalina decided that she would keep Jasmine for good. She would do whatever she could to let the dog enjoy as much as possible of her life. The truth was, Catalina got something out of the arrangement herself. The bond she had with Jasmine had begun to feel the same as those she had with her children. It gave Catalina a level of commitment and a clarity of purpose she felt as though she had been missing.

Catalina stuck to her program. The feedings, the carrying, the play sessions in the yard, the walks, the after-dinner quiet time with music. As expected, Jasmine was terrified around Williams, but from what the behaviorist could observe and what Catalina told her, Williams determined that it was time to work with the third area of motivation-the food drive. Catalina had done well using the companions.h.i.+p drive to make some progress, but Williams could see that there was untapped potential to draw Jasmine through food.

First they introduced the Kong. Jasmine took to it quickly and enjoyed chewing and working over the toy to get the treats out. More important, they left the Kongs outside the crate, so Jasmine had to venture out to get them, and since she was used to eating out there, that's where she worked on them. The result was more time out of the crate, allowing her to get more comfortable and expand her safe zone.

Williams also introduced clicker training. Jasmine had to follow Catalina's finger as it moved. Every time she did she got a click and a treat. Pretty quickly, Jasmine began to a.s.sociate the sound with the treat, and the idea that doing what was being asked of her would get her both took hold.

Next, Catalina made Jasmine touch the palm of her hand with her nose to get a click. Jasmine hesitated. She had touched Catalina's hand a few times while sniffing for treats and seeking out crumbs and those touches had earned her clicks. Jasmine seemed to understand what was being asked of her, but she did not feel comfortable. She looked at Catalina. She tried following her finger but that wasn't working anymore.

Finally, Catalina held out her palm. Jasmine stood and moved toward it, her neck extending and then retracting. Slowly she inched forward until finally, she touched the palm with her nose. Immediately she got a click and a treat. Catalina stuck her hand out and Jasmine did it again. Another click and another treat. Catalina was so happy. She could see Jasmine being drawn out of her sh.e.l.l. And although she didn't realize it, something even bigger was happening.

The physical barrier that Jasmine had put up between them was crumbling. After a few days of palm-touching work Jasmine let Catalina pet her. She didn't shake as she had in the past or flatten on the ground, she sat calmly and let Catalina stroke her.

Catalina was ecstatic. For more than five months Jasmine had cowered in fear of any hand coming near her, and now she had begun to a.s.sociate human hands with positive things. Finally, a trust was building.

Catalina continued to push. She introduced a pole that Jasmine had to touch with her nose to get a click. Once the dog had mastered that feat, Catalina began to move the pole around her own body so that Jasmine had to walk past and around her, brush up against her, and cross underneath her to get the pole. It took a few tries but eventually Jasmine embraced the drill.

Catalina worked on clicker training with Jasmine twice a day, for up to an hour each session. Plus she was still doing the walks and the feedings. When Catalina came at night to sit and play music she could see that Jasmine was happier. The dog was starting to return the bond that Catalina felt. Jasmine began to look forward to her time with Catalina, and she got excited when Catalina came into the room. She was still scared of everyone else in the house. Sounds and voices made her shake with terror. Intrusions led her to go rigid and close her eyes. She still ate in solitude, but she was definitely making progress.

Then one morning Catalina came down to carry Jasmine out to the yard. As she approached the crate, Jasmine stood. She was in her crouched and cowering mode, but she stepped forward, stopped, then took another step. She looked around and then at Catalina. At last she walked out of the crate and started across the room.

Catalina stood perfectly still and watched her go. Jasmine reached the door that led out to the yard and stopped. The two of them stood frozen where they were. Finally, Jasmine swiveled her head around and looked back at Catalina, who snapped back to her senses and rushed to open the door. Jasmine went up the stairs and out into the yard.

34.

ON NOVEMBER 22, 2007, Cris Cohen was up early to walk the dogs. He would have to walk each of them separately, feed them separately, the whole deal. It was Thanksgiving and he was home alone. Cris Cohen was up early to walk the dogs. He would have to walk each of them separately, feed them separately, the whole deal. It was Thanksgiving and he was home alone.

Jen had gone home to Pittsburgh to be with her family, but Cris couldn't take time off from work, so he had stayed behind. All foster dogs are a lot of effort, especially one as unsocialized as Jonny was, but the restrictions that forced them to keep the dogs apart had made this situation even harder. It had worn on them as a couple, and being in the house alone on the holiday was a low point for Cris.

What kept him going was Jonny. It had been thirty-one days since the little guy came home with him and in just the last few he had begun to evolve into an actual dog-that is to say, something resembling a typical house pet. That first BAD RAP training cla.s.s had been a disaster, but it was also something of a turning point. Jonny emerged with a better idea of what he was supposed to be doing. He might not have performed well that day, but it seemed as if he spent his time watching the other dogs, and seeing how they acted had clued him into the program.

In the days since, he'd been calmer and more receptive to training. He'd become more confident; he still s...o...b..ed out at times-he flipped at his first close encounters with a flus.h.i.+ng toilet, the doorbell, a dropped book, and his archnemesis remained the garbage truck-but he was much cooler about it now and settled down much more quickly afterward. When Lilly fell asleep downstairs (the house is inverse, with a garage and storage areas downstairs and living s.p.a.ce on the second floor), Cris would let Jonny play off-leash upstairs. He loved running around the house, playing fetch and chase and chewing on his fuzzy toy, but now, if Mr. s.p.u.n.ky appeared, the simple sit sit command would bring him right down. command would bring him right down.

And these days it went far beyond sit sit. Jonny could communicate now. He would bark and whine for attention, and he knew uh-uh uh-uh (as in no), (as in no), drop drop, take take, down down, ouch ouch, go see go see, heel heel, and wait wait. When Cohen went to take him out of his crate Jonny no longer jumped up against the gate. He sat and waited for it to open-most of the time. He was still working on stay stay, come come, and kiss kiss, but he had heel heel down so well that when Cohen walked him the only way he even knew Jonny was trotting alongside was by the jingle of his tags. down so well that when Cohen walked him the only way he even knew Jonny was trotting alongside was by the jingle of his tags.

It had taken a ton of work by both Cris and Jonny to reach this point, and Cohen found it gratifying to see the progress. Jonny too seemed happier to have a routine, steady attention, and a sense that good things happened to good dogs. Cohen looked forward to Sat.u.r.day's training cla.s.s. It would be Jonny's fourth and although he had shown steady progress, Cohen was expecting Jonny to knock some socks off this weekend. He hoped a good showing would earn Jonny the nod to interact with Lilly. Not only would that be fun for the dogs, but it would make life much easier for the people, namely, Cris and Jen.

That wouldn't help Cris today, though. He took the dogs for a long walk in Golden Gate Park before heading out for an early dinner at an old friend's house. After dinner he spoke to Jen on the phone for a while and then fed the pooches a little leftover turkey. Lilly fell asleep in her crate, so Cris let Jonny out.

The morning's long walk and the heavy meal made Cohen tired, so he lay down on the floor. The house was silent and the light dim. Jonny roamed around sniffing for a while, then chewed on his fuzzy toy. Eventually he made his way over to Cris. Jonny sniffed around Cris's side, then circled once and very gently lay down beside him.

Cris looked down at the little dog. He thought about where Jonny had come from and wondered if Jonny had ever done anything like this before-snuggle next to someone on the carpet of a warm house on a cool night. Cris was sure Jonny hadn't, but he was happy the dog was getting a chance to do it now.

He'd begun to feel better about his Thanksgiving and to miss Jen just a little less. A few minutes later he felt Jonny's head come to rest on his arm, the soft fur warm against his skin. Then, the sounds of the house and the street outside, the soundtrack of Thanksgiving, were joined by the familiar sound of Jonny's snores.

Cris Cohen was laughing again. Jen was back from her trip to Pennsylvania and that certainly lightened his mood, but her return had nothing to do with his outburst.

As Jonny had become more settled-more confident and normal-his personality had begun to emerge. Or develop, Cohen wasn't sure which. Either way it had become clear that Jonny Rotten was a bit of a scoundrel. He hid things, he s.n.a.t.c.hed things off countertops, he played games to avoid his crate when he didn't feel like going in. Most amusing of all was that he followed these acts with a blinking, doe-eyed look of innocence.

Cohen had been hand-feeding Jonny each morning and although they no longer needed to work on sit sit, Cris continued to use this training method for other things. This morning they were working on look look, which required Jonny to look into Cris's eyes on command. Every time Jonny did it right, he got some more food.

As usual, Cris was sitting with his legs stretched in front of him and he had the food in the bowl next to him. When the food was all gone and they were done with the session he pushed the bowl out on the floor where Jonny could lick the crumbs out of it. The little dog was lapping away when all of sudden his head lifted out of the bowl, his leg raised into the air, and he began to pee. Right on Cohen.

"No!" Cohen yelled.

Jonny stopped midstream. He slowly lowered his leg. Cohen jumped up off the floor. Jonny sat down and looked up at him with big, innocent eyes-"Not good?" Cohen was suddenly caught in that bizarre place between fury and laughter. He quickly leashed the dog and led him to his crate. Then he shuffled back to the kitchen and burst out laughing. He laughed as he wiped urine off the floor and he laughed at the pee-soaked jeans that clung to his leg. He laughed at the idea that he found the entire episode funny.

It helped that he and Jonny had had a good weekend. Training cla.s.s on Sat.u.r.day had gone great. Jonny performed well and it was clear to everyone how far he'd come in just over a month. Afterward, Donna Reynolds and Linda Chwistek, another trainer and BAD RAP volunteer, had complimented both Cris and Jonny. Cris soared. Donna and Linda knew dogs and they knew pit bulls, and they knew how much work it took to get Jonny where he was now. Coming from them, the encouragement felt great.

Tim Racer was even more enthusiastic. He joked that Jonny was ready for his Canine Good Citizen exam, a certification given by the American Kennel Club to dogs that can pa.s.s ten stringent behavior tests. More than eighty-five BAD RAP dogs had earned the honor over the years. The idea of getting one of the Vick dogs to pa.s.s the test had been discussed among the group and it was a shared goal. If one of the dogs could pa.s.s it would be a bellwether moment for pit bulls.

"Maybe we should change his name," Tim went on as he petted Jonny. "He's not rotten anymore so we can't call him Jonny Rotten. Maybe he should be Jonny Justice instead, since he got his justice from Vick and he could get justice for pitbles."

Cris laughed at the time, but when he told Jen the story later he admitted that it had crossed his mind. "I think I can get him there," he said. "Not to prove anything to anyone. That would be great, but it's about Jonny. He's a good dog, and I think he could do it. I have a gut feeling."

Jen agreed. She saw a lot of promise in Jonny, too. But she added, "First you have to get him to stop peeing on everything."

Cris laughed about that, too.

Jonny had a good Christmas. On December 23, he was given clearance to interact with Lilly, and Cris could finally let them roam together in the yard or around the house. Sometimes they played and sometimes they were pests, but for the most part they simply hung out, trotting around, smelling stuff, exploring. They got in the habit of lying in a sun spot that stretched across the living room. Jonny liked to recline on his back, legs sticking up, pink belly facing the ceiling. When Cris lit a fire, Jonny would curl up near the fireplace, like a dog in a fairy tale. He would yawn a few times and then get to snoring.

Around the house he was becoming quite the gentleman. At feeding time he lay on the floor outside the kitchen and waited for the okay before he approached his bowl. Besides the long list of standard commands he could now do a few tricks: shake paws, roll over, kiss.

Jonny had always loved people, but now that he had manners Cris felt freer to let him interact with those they encountered. Jonny made friends everywhere he went, although whenever someone asked to pet him or inquired about him Cohen couldn't help but wonder how people would react if they knew where he'd come from. It didn't matter much because the gag order was still in place, so Cris couldn't have told them if he wanted to.

Cris continued to work with Jonny. The dog was still a bit impulsive, but Cris felt that, however slowly, he was progressing toward that Canine Good Citizen test. Jonny was doing so well in fact that in March, Donna Reynolds called. BAD RAP had another dog who had been tried as a law dog but didn't succeed. He had then been pa.s.sed around a few fosters. He was a great dog, but he needed to be turned into a house pet, much like Jonny had been. "Would you be willing to work with the person who has the dog?" Donna asked.

Cris thought about it. He didn't see how he could talk someone else through what he had done with Jonny. The process required total immersion. He said no, but then added something else. "If you can find a place for Jonny, I'll take the other dog."

The words stung a little even as he said them, but he'd been down this road before. He worked with a dog for a while, a bond formed, but then he gave the dog up. It was never easy, but it was in everyone's best interest.

He and Jen had always agreed that they didn't want two dogs on a full-time basis. Taking on a foster for a few months at a time every now and then was fine, but two was too much. Cris knew it was true. He also knew that however difficult letting go might be, he always got over it. Getting over Jonny might take a little longer, but maybe not. A new challenge was on the way.

On March 29, Jonny moved on to a new foster home. A week later Hector, another Bad Newz pit bull, arrived.

35.

ONE NIGHT CATALINA AND her family sat around the table talking and eating dinner. Throughout the home are reminders of Catalina's background as an artist. The kitchen connects to a large dining-living area and along one of the walls Catalina and her children have painted a giant angel. The rest of the room is devoid of furniture with the exception of a few water bowls and dog beds, and a large hand-painted picnic table. At any given time, the cat and ever-changing cast of dogs lie about and wander around. her family sat around the table talking and eating dinner. Throughout the home are reminders of Catalina's background as an artist. The kitchen connects to a large dining-living area and along one of the walls Catalina and her children have painted a giant angel. The rest of the room is devoid of furniture with the exception of a few water bowls and dog beds, and a large hand-painted picnic table. At any given time, the cat and ever-changing cast of dogs lie about and wander around.